Chasing Feathers
by chaleur
Summary: What has come before no longer exists and what is in the future is as intangible as a feather you hold in the palm of your hand.


Disclaimer: X, the series and the characters, belong to CLAMP, Kodansha  
and the distributors of the anime and movie (and OAV and respective  
merchandise). I don't own anything except this piece of writing, and  
frankly, I don't /want/ to own them. I would never survive the  
angst. Or the sakura trees. Or the littering with petals and feathers  
and whatnot.  
  
=======================  
Chasing Feathers  
by Alexandra Lucas  
kohlcrimson@hotmail.com  
=======================  
  
Once upon a time, there lived two little boys named Kamui and Fuuma   
were very good friends. They used to play together in Fuuma's house,   
which was really a temple, while their mothers, who were also very good   
friends, had tea on the porch and talked to each other in tense, low   
voices about things that neither Kamui nor Fuuma understood very well,   
so they paid no attention to what was said. They would regret it later   
on, but not for a very long time, and not until a great many things had   
happened. Nothing in the world bothered the children as they played   
together.  
  
Their favourite playground was the garden of the temple. It had many  
trees that begged to be climbed and hung from, many cunning hideyholes   
behind the hedges and, best of all, had a tree with a sturdy branch   
from which you could see the whole street. Fuuma, the oldest and   
strongest of them, would wait for Kotori and Kamui to climb first,   
ready to catch them if they fell. Kotori was the fastest of them; she   
would speed gracelessly up the trunk and wait impatiently for Kamui,   
slower and more cautious, to get up, and then finally Fuuma, coming the   
slowest of all up the tree, avoiding the branches that would snag his   
clothes, responsibility making him crawl at what seemed a snail's pace   
towards where Kamui and Kotori sat.  
  
The whole street was their kingdom, and they could look down upon it  
for the whole day. They watched Tanaka-baasan come slowly down the   
road, laden with a basket of shopping, pausing only to greet a  
neighbour. She had lived here forever, or at least as long as the   
children could remember. She smelled of the oil she rubbed into her  
joints at night for her arthritis, sharp and heavy, but she would  
bring sweets for them during the festivals and she never forgot their  
birthdays. She would touch their smooth, unlined faces sometimes and  
smile a little, then sit and watch them play and run about the   
yard on feet that barely touched the ground. Kotori knew, because she  
had heard her mother talking, that Tanaka-baasan lived alone, though  
she had two sons. Kamui and Fuuma had been vaguely disturbed at this; a  
chill had shivered down their spines at the thought of leaving the  
security of a mother. Kamui, in particular, had clung to Tooru as he   
had not since he was a baby, but when his mother asked, he could not  
put a name to what he feared. He did not know himself.  
  
There was an entire universe of people on that street, but on that day  
there was not a body to be seen. The road was bare of cars, even the  
wind seemed strangely still and hushed.  
  
The children felt this and fell silent. They waited - it felt as if the   
entire world was waiting for something Important. Kamui grabbed   
Kotori's hand and held it tightly, and a moment later, Fuuma took   
Kamui's hand and smiled reassuringly down at them both.  
  
"Look. /Look/." Kotori's voice was all suppressed excitement and they   
all turned.  
  
There was a cloud of white floating down the street, dancing up and   
down on a breeze the children could not feel. It moved slowly towards  
them, and as one they leaned forward, Kotori straining so far that she  
almost fell off their perch. Fuuma saw it for what it was first.  
  
"They're /feathers/."  
  
And indeed they were, snowy white and long, longer than the feathers of  
any bird they had ever seen. There were seven of them, floating several  
feet off the ground, undulating gracefully like the body of a great  
serpent.  
  
They flew right past the startled eyes of the children. Kotori made   
some sound - her excitement had been held in check too long - but Fuuma  
and Kamui did not hear. They didn't even breathe as the feathers passed  
them, and Kamui got a very very cold feeling right down in the pit of  
his stomach. Fuuma's face showed nothing except a strange sort of calm,  
but his fingers squeezed Kamui so tightly that they turned white and  
bloodless.  
  
Then Kotori was scrambling down the tree, tearing another hole in her  
dress in the process and pulling Kamui down with her. "It's /magic/,"  
she was saying, trembling all over with the wonder of it. "We have to  
follow it, I bet it's the beginning of some great adventure. It's in  
all the stories."  
  
"Following a bunch of feathers?," Kamui said dubiously, and looked to  
Fuuma for support, but he was looking after the feathers as well, and  
Kamui's heart sank. He knew that look; that was Fuuma's 'serious' look  
and he would not be dissuaded from whatever decision he had made. The  
last time he had gotten that look was when he had decided he was old  
enough to stay up all night. He had - or at least, he had been awake  
when Kamui had given up and fallen asleep, and he had still been awake  
and sitting in the exact same position when he woke up. He had gone  
through the next day as normal, if a bit heavy-eyed, but had slept like  
a log the next night, and it had taken more than a few calls and   
ungentle nudges from Kamui and Kotori to wake him up after that. Saya  
had been so concerned that she insisted Fuuma stay inside the whole   
day; it was simply not like Fuuma to be so lethargic and she thought he  
must surely be falling sick.  
  
Now, Fuuma cast one glance towards the temple and started off   
towards the road. "Come on. We'll lose them if we wait." Kotori ran   
after him, but Kamui hesitated - it was as though their mothers didn't  
even see them as they left the yard, and his mother always noticed  
things like that. She wasn't on the porch, she must have gone inside  
where it was cooler.  
  
In fact, it was as though no one saw them as they walked. The streets  
were deserted. Kamui wondered where all the people had gone. Kotori and  
Fuuma didn't seem to notice it; Fuuma watched the feathers like they  
were the only things in the world and Kotori was talking all the while  
about fairy tales and magic. Kamui ran after them; if there was one   
thing he was sure of, it was that he did /not/ want to be left alone  
in this not-Tokyo.  
  
The feathers brought them to a park, beautiful and green, filled with   
sakura trees whose branches were bare of flowers, but at the center of   
the park, there was one tree which bloomed impossibly, lush and somehow   
threatening in its vibrant, obscene abundance in the midst of other   
trees that were naked and sleeping. The feathers circled the tree once,  
the children following, and flew away again. Kamui was glad to leave;   
he thought the tree might have watched them as they left, but he was  
too afraid to look back and check if it was laughing at them, mocking  
and deadly. The arch that they walked through on their way out said  
"Ueno Park" in tall kanji.  
  
The feathers travelled on, past the large, closed gates of the   
prestigious CLAMP Gakuen and the imposing Diet building, down a street  
which had figures in the windows that made Kamui and Kotori blush   
furiously and avert their eyes. Kamui had not noticed before, but the  
feathers were disappearing, one by one. Another disappeared into a  
building that had books in the window, and "ASUKA Publishing House"  
written outside, and then there were three feathers left. One  
disappeared as they passed another small temple where Kotori said  
her father had visited once, and yet another vanished after its   
brother.   
  
Then only one feather was left. Kamui looked up in surprise; without  
noticing it, they had come home. The three of them stood at the gate,  
Kotori having finally grown tired of all the walking and she leaned  
heavily on Kamui's arm. Fuuma didn't seem to notice his sister,   
staring fixedly at the last feather. It was not moving now, nor was  
it disappearing into thin air like the rest of the feathers; it hung  
motionless in front of Kamui.   
  
Kamui had not liked this day - it had turned out nothing like it was  
supposed to and he was tired and frightened and more than a little  
angry. Worst of all was the absolute lack of anything on Fuuma's face.  
He could always tell when Fuuma was angry or sad or just being Fuuma,  
but there was none of it now, and it unsettled Kamui. He took a step  
towards home, but Fuuma didn't move, didn't blink, didn't breathe,  
and this made Kamui even more angry. "Fuuma!," he called, but Fuuma  
did not hear him.  
  
Kamui had had enough. It had not been his idea in the first place,  
Kotori was almost asleep on his shoulder and being no help, and Fuuma  
was just standing there doing a very good imitation of a rock. He  
wanted to go /inside/, back to his mother, back to the things he knew;  
once he had done that, he was sure, all these strange things would melt  
away and it would be as if this day had never happened.  
  
Kamui  
reached out  
and  
  
  
pulled  
  
  
the feather   
  
out  
  
of  
  
the  
  
air.  
  
  
"Kamui!" Kamui got up quickly and brushed the leaves off his shirt. He  
found something in his pocket, a long white feather that he had found  
somewhere, but he couldn't imagine what had possessed him to put it  
into his pocket. With a shrug, he tossed it away. It was time for  
dinner. Kotori was already running towards the house, but it seemed  
that she was slower than usual, and she had to pause and catch her  
breath before she got to the door, her face pale. Behind them, Fuuma  
picked himself up slowly, moving like someone who had not quite  
woken from a long dream. He picked up the discarded feather and ran  
it once between his fingers, soft and clean and too long to be a   
bird's, and he put it into his pocket, where it disappeared without  
a sound.  
  
Then Kotori, Fuuma and Kamui went for dinner.   
  
The evening passed quietly and the day had never been. 


End file.
